


map the soul

by suhoya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4179225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suhoya/pseuds/suhoya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo was tired of seeing them everywhere, around everyone, stealing the place it was designed to be for real human beings. </p><p>Little did he know how unexpectedly that thought would fade away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been thinking of an android au for a while, and last week I started watching the new English series ‘Humans’ and I thought……nice… right on time. This fic is not going to follow the series plot (at least not intentionally), I just took the android term and the general idea, along with some chobits influence, to help me get me started. If all goes well, it’s going to be 4 chapters, so please bear with me for a little while and thanks a lot for reading <3
> 
> Title’s from [one of my favourite songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9OkiGO7u-6w), which magically fits this fic, I guess.

 

Tokyo had turned into what a lot of sci-fi movies imagined, even predicted, many decades ago. It seemed normal to the rest of the world, a product of evolution – it was something that had been under development for years, just like one time computers, mobile phones, or drones did.

Robots with human form, the ones called androids, had become part of society’s daily routine. They were another figure in the streets and at homes. They were able to carry out any type of tasks, and that was why the majority of people used them as servants and social labour. However, there were some other people who bought them for company.

For company, a robot? Something without own feelings, without judgement, only programmed to act and respond the same way all the time. Soulless. Lifeless.

 _What a fucked-up generation_ , was what Kuroo thought day after day. It was crystal clear that an android would help him greatly, he didn’t deny that. So what would he do with an android? Well, it could recite to him the most boring and unbearable theoretical units from his books and help him with uni projects. It could do his laundry, go grocery-shopping while he was resting or just hanging out somewhere, make him meals.

The difference lay on the fact that Kuroo wasn’t going to spend a single coin in a servant just so he could get away with daily chores, wasting his time doing the things he, as a responsible adult already, should be doing without complaints.

But it seemed he was one of the few, or perhaps the only one, who thought that way.

“Come on, I’ll lend you some so you can buy one once and for all,” was what his best friend Bokuto babbled for the bazillionth time. He was another poor soul who had fallen into the current, most trending technology in modern androids – the Synths.

“Leave it, Bokuto. I’m not going to spend a cent from my rent in a slave.”

“A slave? Stop being such a moralist, Kuroo. They’re robots. I understand that somehow they also have feelings, but…”

“They haven’t,” Kuroo hurried to correct. There was no way he was going to address an android just like a human being.

“They _do_ have them, Kuroo,” Bokuto pointed out, calmly, and Kuroo almost retorted again because he was sick of having this kind of conversation every time the topic of synths was brought up. But, out of respect, he remained silent. “They have feelings somehow, and even though they’re just a program, it’s something very complex and full of brain connections. Their feelings are not equivalent to ours, but in a way, they get to feel, too.”

“See, you’re just proving my point. You all use them as slaves.”

“I would never treat Akaashi like that!” Bokuto raised his voice, visibly offended by Kuroo’s statement.

“So you even put it a name, just like a pet…” he muttered.

“Akaashi… is not a pet…”

Bokuto had stopped walking before the last flight of stairs on their way out of university. Kuroo, who hadn’t noticed he was far ahead of him, turned around and when he saw his friend so gloomy, he realized he had pushed the boundaries too far. Since when did he shoot such remarks, to his best friend, even?

He went back until standing in front of Bokuto, who still kept his face down.

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just…” he began while gazing around, looking at some point lost amongst all the people entering and leaving campus. “Look around you, you don’t see two people together anymore. It’s just random and single people accompanied by those robots.”

And it was true. Students were coming and going, and almost everyone had a synth by their side, holding their bags, papers, handing them some food, talking, even laughing.

Bokuto looked around in silence, his eyes and expression softening. He then faced Kuroo again, with an intensity he didn’t show before.

“What about us?”

Too many years of knowing each other were enough experience for Kuroo to know when his best friend was only bluffing.

“Clearly an exception because I’d kick your ass if you brought yours with us.”

“Aw, you know, Akaashi’s really ni—“

“ _I_. _Don’t_. _Care_.” Kuroo snapped, but Bokuto’s dejected face always made him feel bad for his blunt words. After a long sigh, he tried to be comprehensive, once more. “Sorry Bo, it’s just that I miss being surrounded by actual people, you know? With hot blood and flesh and breath. There are too many machines around us and it’s so common it doesn’t seem odd anymore, but it is. Somehow…”

Bokuto tried to stop Kuroo’s ongoing rant, patting him on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, Kuroo, I get you. We’ve all been there, more or less. But trust me, it’s a matter of acceptance sooner than later… and they do no harm to us, their only purpose is to make our lives easier. It’s okay if you don’t want or need one, it’s your choice, like everything else you choose in your life.”

Kuroo considered those words, and after a last sigh of resignation, he nodded lightly.

“I guess it’s not my thing to adapt easily to changes, is it?

“Yeah! There’s no rush about it, Kuroo!”

At least Bokuto was radiating his powerful energy like usual, and Kuroo thought that, on behalf of their friendship, he had to change. Start to understand his environment in a more tolerant way, and not like an old man who complained about the existing matter he didn’t want to see.

 

***

 

When Kuroo found himself in the silent and empty space of his apartment, he tried to picture how that moment would be in the company of a synth.

It was an odd feeling, it sounded like a terrible idea, but his earlier conversation with Bokuto had made him go all over the pros and cons, and well, maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea. Maybe if he got to save up a little, maybe he could…

No way, it was nonsense. Too expensive, too demanding for attention, even worse than any other electronic device. Hell, he didn’t even use his laptop anymore, only for random projects. He didn’t do the washing that much, after all how much dirty laundry can a single person gather weekly? And he actually enjoyed cooking…

The best thing to do was to forget about the topic, and just keep going through his daily life. Cut out any kind of moralist principles, and see androids as helpers to humans. He might not need one, but think of the thousands of old people who couldn’t live by themselves, impaired people, orphans… Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe it wasn’t a matter of being human or not, but rather a matter of showing humanity.

It was getting darker, and Kuroo’s stomach started to growl alarmingly, so he walked to the kitchen to grab something quick to prepare – he wasn’t in the mood to cook that night. Classes left him exhausted and he was only thinking of lying in bed right after dinner.

It wasn’t a pleasant surprise to find out there wasn’t a single instant ramen anywhere. Nothing good enough to save the night.

This was one of those times in which if he had a synth…

“Ah, whatever.”

Putting on his sneakers and grabbing some change from the counter, he closed the door of the apartment, heading towards the nearest 24h store which could save him from starving.

Once the food was paid, for the first time he paid attention to the store assistant, obviously a synth, that one in the evening shift, so tall, with platinum hair he always ignored.

This time, he thanked him for the service and waved him goodbye.

Surprisingly, the synth responded with a huge smile on his face, childishly, as if that action was the best thing that had happened to him all day.

Kuroo couldn’t help but smile as well at such adorable reaction.

They might not be real people after all, but hell, they resembled so much…

 

During the way back home, he let himself wander a bit and stroll in the peaceful calm of the evening, a fresh breeze of wind caressing his skin.

Kuroo was turning around the corner which brought him back to the main street towards his apartment, when a mound of trash bags and bins piled up caught his attention. It wasn’t the trash itself, but another thing, much bigger and bulky which stood out.

It was a body.

It was _someone_.

A corpse? Fuck, he had never come across one or anything like that and he didn’t know if he should take a look first or just directly call the police.

Treading lightly, he got closer. It was a person, without a doubt. A young man, just like him, but with a smaller and thinner physique.

He was all dirty and messy – his clothes were wrinkled and full of stains, soil, or maybe even blood… Kuroo could only see a side of his face covered up by a bag on top of him.

Very carefully, he stretched out his arm and reached for his neck. He wasn’t cold, quite the contrary – there was a warm sensation the second his fingers touched his skin. Kuroo didn’t know exactly how to take one’s pulse, but it seemed to him there still was a beating there. Faint, weak, but it was there.

“Fuck.”

He didn’t waste any time and moved the heavy trash bag away, and the boy’s body slid down the pile, bending over even more.

“Ssh, I got you,” he said in a low voice at the same time he held him by his armpits.

He wasn’t heavy. He managed to make him stand, and with all the force he could gather, he carried him on his back.

 

***

 

Once he was lying on the floor of his apartment, Kuroo took his pulse once again. There was no doubt – he wasn’t dead.

He observed him for a short moment, and he wondered who the sick fuck could have done that to the poor guy. His cheeks were swollen, same with his hands and knuckles. Everything pointed out to a tough fight, and he ended up taking the worst blows.

Kuroo hurried up to clean his skin with a wet cloth. His face, neck, arms and hands. He was very careful with the head, just to be sure he didn’t have any cuts or contusions – he looked safe in that aspect.

He had long hair, which wasn’t a usual thing on guys these days, but it kind of suited him well. It was somewhat ash blonde, darkened and somewhat tangled, but thin and smooth.

Kuroo was now in a position of having no idea how to proceed. Wait until he woke up? Or try to reanimate?

Messy, blurry memories of first aid came to his mind.

He had already taken his pulse, it was weak.

He had cleaned him properly, no fatal wounds, no bleeding.

Sitting next to him, Kuroo placed his hand on top of the boy’s mouth. There was no breath coming out.

CPR then?

It would be better to try it before it was too late. He grabbed him from behind in order to put him in a complete straight position. He slid his hand under his scalp and nape, and it was then when he woke up.

His body suffered a short convulsion, and then a slight, low buzzing began to fill the air, like it was something starting to function. Something… electronic.

Kuroo waited utterly in shock in front of him. His eyes stuck, frozen on the boy’s face, with the hope he would open them… and so he did.

They were the brightest shade of yellow he had ever seen.

“Shit.”

It was a synth.

 

 

***

 

 

“Hmm, what’s up, Kuroo,” said a drowsy voice at the other end of the phone line.

“Bokuto, I need help.”

His tone immediately changed. “What? What happened?”

“I found a broken synth in the trash.”

Kuroo heard a loud thump in the background, like something heavy falling to the floor. Probably it was Bokuto himself.

“What!?”

“Hey, don’t yell. So, can you help me or not?”

His friend mumbled unintelligible sounds and vowels.

“But—how—what— what do you need?”

“Everything. I have no fucking idea what to do.”

“See, Kuroo? If you had listened to me when—“

Kuroo sighed. “If you’re going to scold me for not giving a shit about synths, _this_ is not the time.”

Bokuto managed to shut up for like, three seconds, and Kuroo waited.

“Okay, bro to the rescue. I’ll see you in ten.”

“That’s my Bo.”

 

 

 

When Kuroo opened the door, he didn’t expect to see a beautiful, dark haired guy standing in front of him.

“Oh, are you…”

“My name is Akaashi. Nice to meet you, Kuroo-san.”

“Kuroo! Isn’t Akaashi great? See, I told you he was!”

Bokuto appeared from behind, too much energy once again for that time of night. He stepped inside quickly, happy smile of pride all over his face.

“Both great _and_ handsome, huh,” Kuroo whispered, too close to Bokuto’s cheek, and his friend quickly pushed him away with clear signs of blush.

“Anyway, where’s the synth, man!!” Bokuto shouted and going inside the apartment without further welcoming.

“Please forgive his manners,” Akaashi said, and Kuroo laughed.

“I’m kinda used to. Come in.”

Bokuto’s synth bowed briefly and followed his owner into the main and only room.

 _He looks like a good partner for Bokuto_ , Kuroo thought while seeing him so calm and steady. Maybe it was all true after all, and they made lives easier, and happier.

When Kuroo followed them back to the room, Bokuto was already examining the synth. Grabbing and raising limbs, carefully looking for Kuroo didn’t know what exactly.

“What are you doing?”

“How did you switch it on? He must have some kind of button or sensor somewhere.”

The synth still had his eyes open, sign he was clearly functioning, but he was completely mute and motionless, like a dummy.

Kuroo tried to remember what he did, where he touched.

“Ah—On his neck, I think. Behind.”

Bokuto propped him up and made him sit properly, so he could take a look at his back.

“Wait, grab him while I look closely…”

Since the synth had rather long hair, his nape was covered by locks of blonde hair. While Kuroo clutched his hands on his shoulders, Bokuto flipped his back hair away to have a better look.

“Aaaand, here it is!”

“Huh, let me see,” Kuroo quickly said, stretching his neck to take a look.

It was a small, dark patch on its skin, a sensor. So that’s how he turned it on…

“See, you touched here and it became alive. Now, the thing is—“ He moved his hand away, and stepped back to examine it wholly. “How come it isn’t moving or talking…”

Akaashi had been silent all along, but at the very second Bokuto glanced at him for answers, he started to speak.

“His data might be damaged. He might have lost his OS. I can connect into its brain to find a more accurate explanation.”

“No, Akaashi, wait, it could be dangerous,” Bokuto warned with a firm but worried voice which startled Kuroo. He had never heard his friend speak like that to somebody. “This is weird, synths are supposed to be recycled. I mean, it’s actually _illegal_ to throw them away.”

Kuroo stared at the static, lifeless expression of the synth. Even if he wasn’t human, why would anyone throw him to the trash like that? Lots of people were dying to own one of these, even if he was broken, why not try to fix him?

“Maybe this one got lost or something…” he uttered pensively, letting his hand pick a few rebellious strands of hair that fell into his face.

“Look at you, Kuroo, concerned about a synth.”

Kuroo quickly drew away his hand.

“Shut up. I thought it was human at first, okay.”

Bokuto responded with a sneaky grin.

“Anyway, I don’t think we can fix him with what we have here. I’m still a newbie on this. We should bring it to Sawamura, I’m sure he’ll know what to do.”

Ugh, not Sawamura.

Kuroo had an ongoing and one-sided rivalry of sorts against the guy, too bad for his own good. And part the blame behind that attitude was because well, Sawamura was particularly very _pleasant_  to stare at, but instead his brilliant mind had chosen to spend his time with a damn robot as well as the 99% of the population. Where was the natural charm these days?

He had picked on that bright haired synth of his too many times, it would be shameful to beg him now to fix one for him.

But Kuroo guessed he didn’t have any other options.

 

***

 

Sawamura lived in an apartment, too, but what an apartment.

Kuroo and Bokuto looked like beggars compared to Sawamura. He had a big home, a prodigious mind, and even though they all three were the same age, Sawamura was the only one with an older aura around him, which radiated nothing but wisdom.

He didn’t sound very happy to receive a night call on a week day, not when the next morning he had to wake up early and attend university. Yet, when Bokuto told him the news, he couldn’t refuse.

His synth, called Suga, opened the door for them, and Kuroo instantly remembered why he always picked on him.

Suga was really, really pretty, the kind of pretty it makes you angry. He also had a very outgoing personality sometimes it made him forget he was an android. It was crazy, and unfair. If it were a real guy, Kuroo was sure Sawamura would be dating him. And that thought pissed him off. Just a little.

“Kuroo! Bokuto! We were waiting for you. Daichi’s really anxious to know about this broken synth, you know?” Suga welcomed them with his trademark angelic smile, and Kuroo only scowled.

When they came inside, Sawamura was already standing there, ready for the show.

“Heard a certain someone needed my help, Kuroo.”

“Yeah, hello to you too, Sawamura.”

“Come on, come on!” Suga walked around waving his arms excitedly. “We have a guest we need to fix _a s a p_!”

Kuroo, who had been carrying the synth on his back, walked to the chair Suga had handed to him and cautiously placed the inert body on it.

Sawamura did the same as Bokuto minutes ago – he began to examine its body parts, twitching, raising, stretching, making sure there was no physical anomaly.

“It looks fine on the outside, I think the damage is only internal.”

 _Only_ , Kuroo thought. That didn’t sound well to his ears.

“I’m going to connect him to my database and check what’s going on in there. I may be able to restart him or something as long as the OS is in good state.”

Sawamura went into another room and brought a tablet with him. With it, he scanned the synth’s sensor on its nape, and he started typing.

Bokuto, Akaashi, Suga, and lastly Kuroo, observed him do all that stuff without even blinking. He really was brilliant.

“Uh—“ Sawamura uttered, and Kuroo quickly walked to him to have a look at the screen. As expected, lots of technical stuff and a graphic he couldn’t read at all.

“What is it?” Bokuto asked.

“I can’t recognize this OS… I’ve never seen it. Maybe it’s too old.”

“Daichi, do you want me to have a look on it?”

“No,” he responded, the same way Bokuto replied to Akaashi. “Let me try this first.”

Kuroo kept glancing both to the screen, to Sawamura’s face, and to the blank, confused expressions dashed on Suga, Bokuto, and Akaashi.

Sawamura continued typing into the graphs and data on his tablet, and the synth remained the same. He didn’t move, flinch, nor made any kind of sound. He was just _there_.

“Kuroo.” Sawamura called him, and Kuroo looked back. “Stand opposite him, and when I tell you, press the sensor.”

Slightly uneasy, Kuroo walked to the synth and rested his hand behind its head. The now smoother hair was tickling him a bit on the back of his hand.

“Ready?” Sawamura prompted.

“When you are.”

“Okay…” he muttered, and typed once more. “ _Now_.”

Kuroo pressed his fingertip onto the sensor. It felt like touching metal this time – cold and sleek.

The synth twitched, and the electronic sound was heard again, a high-pitched buzzing from somewhere inside it.

Kuroo had to take a step back because, now, finally, he moved.

He stood up from the chair by himself.

“S y n t h  a c t i v a t e d. P l e a s e  p r o c e e d  t o  u s e r  s e t u p .”

“Well, shit,” Bokuto uttered, and Kuroo thanked him for voicing out his same thoughts.

Suga burst in loud cheers and landed on Sawamura, giving him a back hug.

“You did it, Daichi!”

Bokuto nudged Kuroo, embracing him with one arm.

“Dickhead, congrats on your beautiful synth.”

Kuroo didn’t know what to say. That was it? He had a synth now?

What was he going to do with him?

“So, Kuroo,” Sawamura called to him, “any requests for your synth?”

“What do you mean by _requests_?”

“Like, how you want him to call you, ‘my lord’, ‘captain’, or ‘asshole’.”

“Eww, that’s mean, Sawamura!” Bokuto said, but he was almost laughing.

Kuroo ignored the idiot, and spoke to Bokuto instead.

“So you programmed yours to call you formally… and Sawamura’s just uses his first name?”

“I think Bokuto has some kind of… fetish, by being called Bokuto _–san_ …”

“Sawamura! Shut up, I don’t--!”

“Bokuto-san, please calm down,” Akaashi immediately spoke right away whenever Bokuto got too excited.

Bokuto went red instantly, which only resulted in Kuroo side-eyeing him.

“Told you,” Sawamura said, arms crossed and looking proud.

“Whatever. Show me how I can register my name, then.”

“ _Tetsu_ , perhaps?” he guessed, getting next to Kuroo.

“Nah, I’ll leave the first name basis to old married couples, _Daichi_ ,” he replied with sarcasm, echoing his synth’s voice. “Just Kuroo is fine, without the –san. I’m not into synth kinks like you nerds.”

Sawamura snorted. “Sure, just give it some time.”

After typing into the tablet, he made the synth speak again with a robotic voice, nothing like Suga’s or Akaashi’s almost human-like.

“P l e a s e  p r o n o u n c e  h o w  t o  a d d r e s s  f i r s t  u s e r .”

Kuroo did as told and said his name out loud, but Sawamura elbowed him softly on his arm he stuttered at the end.

“P r i m a r y  u s e r  n a m e  c o n f i r m e d. P r i m a r y  u s e r  n a m e :  Kuro.”

“Wait, I think he said just _Kuro_ ,” Bokuto quickly informed, even though Kuroo had heard it perfectly, and everyone else in the room.

“Sawamura you’re such a shi—“

“Hey, I didn’t do anything,” the brilliant mind quickly excused himself, open palm raised in the air. “Just record it again, learn the ropes.”

“Go to hell, seriously,” he scowled, and stared back at the synth. With a neutral voice, he ordered. “I want to change my user name.”

Another buzzing sound.

“P r i m a r y  u s e r  n a m e  c a n n o t  b e  m o d i f i e d .”

“What the fuck?” Kuroo barked, eyes landing accusingly on Sawamura.

Bokuto was also taken by surprise. “Why? I thought we got him fixed.”

“Yeah, well, I guess… not 100%,” Sawamura pointed out, and then glanced at worried Kuroo. “Anyway… Kuro doesn’t sound that bad.”

He sent him back a flat, long look across the room, and mouthed the words ‘Fuck you’.

Sawamura cackled with amusement. “Come on, just talk to him. Introduce yourself.”

Kuroo sighed and faced the synth once again.

“Uhm- This is Kuro. Hello?”

It seemed like the synth examined him quickly, his feline eyes taking a long, deep scan from head to toe.

A few seconds later, his expression softened, and something resembling a smile, very vaguely, appeared on the corners of his mouth.

“Hello, my name is Kozume Kenma. Nice to meet you, Kuro.”

His yellowed eyes were glowing the brightest for the first time that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dude I had so much fun writing smug daichi and pissed kuroo you have no idea. poor thing can’t compete with angel suga I guess. maybe in another AU, kuroo 8)  
> Anyway this was a rather long start!! Hope you liked it... it’s the first time I write something remotely non-realistic setting so I’m a bit nervous it would come off too OOC.... we’ll see I guess.......


	2. Body

 

Kuroo could label his way back home that late in the morning as one of the most awkward scenes he’d ever experienced for the past few months.

After sneaking out from Bokuto’s ceaseless hugs, more congratulations words –even from Sawamura- and a two-minute setup course of how to charge a synth, Kuroo could say goodbye and head home in peace.

Once again in the dimness of the streets, Kuroo was living the first minutes of his life as a synth owner. That situation most of society had been accustomed to for many years, but Kuroo had just begun to be aware of.

What he noticed earliest is that Kenma didn’t seem to speak unless you spoke first. He just observed his surroundings, without saying anything, with no evaluations nor opinions.

Obviously, that kind of behavior was more than normal, is what Kuroo had to repeat himself a lot of times – that Kenma wasn’t a human being, so just like any other machine, he didn’t have full consciousness or free will (as much as Bokuto insisted on making him believe that they did, even if it were weak).

The two of them were walking down the streets towards the apartment, and Kuroo was feeling too self-conscious about his steps, because Kenma was slightly slower, so he had to match his.

So Kuroo didn’t have any kind of experience with synths, and less actually speaking to them, but speaking as a whole, talking, having a meaningful conversation. What he spoke with Suga sometimes –always under Sawamura’s threatening eyes- couldn’t count as actual conversations.

What was wandering in his head was: what do you talk about with a synth? Kuroo somewhat knew one could – Sawamura talked with Suga, Bokuto blabbed with Akaashi, and so on with everyone who owned one. But for Kuroo, it was a new, odd experience.

Which translated into the worst question he could ever ask.

“Are you hungry?” that escaped from his lips and just a second in the silence of the night made him realize what a stupid thing he’d asked.

To his surprise, Kenma didn’t make any weird face, he didn’t looked offended nor anything Kuroo could guess beyond his unaffected, glowing, feline eyes.

“…We synths don’t eat. At least not to keep functioning.”

Of course, that made all the sense in the world. They were fucking machines, after all. However, Kenma’s hesitating voice made Kuroo curious.

“What do you mean with at least not to…?”

“We can eat, sometimes,” Kenma clarified. “We don’t need to, but we can, in small amounts. It does nothing to our system, so in the end it’s pointless.”

Kuroo felt the need to keep knowing more about how Kenma worked. Well, how synths worked.

“Can you experience taste and flavours?”

Kenma slowed his pace until he stopped. Kuroo, a bit baffled, also stopped on his tracks.

“I don’t understand the question.”

 _Oh, right_. How could he know about taste if he was just like a brand-new manufactured synth? Even if he had eaten anything before, he had just been under reset and it was like losing all his memories from any previous activity, according to what Sawamura had explained to him.

“Ah, sorry,” Kuroo apologized quickly. It was hard to treat him like a synth, when he looked like a person so much, to a guy just around his same age. “I was just wondering… if you could choose anything to eat, what would you like to try?”

Kenma waited with his fixed, deep gaze, which made Kuroo feel captured and stuck in place. He knew all synths had shining, striking eyes –it was the clearest evidence to recognize them- but such intensity in Kenma’s was something he had never seen in any others.

When Kuroo realized how long the silence had turned to after his inquiry, and seeing how the only thing about Kenma moving was his hair caused by the gentle breeze of the night, he assumed that was going to be another question without answer.

Yet, Kenma blinked. He may have done it before, but Kuroo hadn’t noticed.

He blinked a few more times, and his eyes lost a thread of depth. They looked less artificial.

Smoothly, he put his hands inside the pockets of his trousers, and looked up to the starry sky, and his gaze got lost somewhere, at some point in the infinite.

“Something with apple… maybe.”

 

 

***

 

Another strange situation to add to that day full of new and strange situations. It was just that Kuroo had never brought anyone to his apartment, apart from Bokuto (and Akaashi, that same night). He had classmates with different degrees of affinity, and besides Bokuto, there wasn’t anyone else he could consider friend enough so as to invite him to his humble home. That was why bringing someone home, who was going to live with him from now on as well, made him feel a little unsettled.

Kenma continued with his same shy, quiet behavior from early before. Kuroo was grateful for that, though, since he wasn’t keen on the idea of having a synth who spoke without limit. Kuroo guessed he could get on just fine with Kenma, as time went by.

And that was another new sensation to add to such a rowdy day, taking into account that no that long ago his opinion on synths still was that there were way too many in this world.

_Ah, Kuroo Tetsurou, in the end you just fell into the trap just like the rest._

Kuroo didn’t have to warn Kenma to take off his shoes before getting inside, because right when he turned around to the door, his synth was already hunched, leaving his shoes on the floor.

It was then when Kuroo noticed that Kenma was still dressed in the same clothes he found him – a dark shirt stained with dried soil under a red and white hoodie, also stained even with blood spurts. His trousers were tight jeans, torn around the knees, leaving some fabric threads out.

He looked awful.

“I’m sorry, I totally forgot,” Kuroo said, walking across the room and opening his wardrobe. “You should change your clothes. Feel free to take anything from here.”

Leaning his arm on the frame of the sliding door, he looked like exhibiting a great fashion clothes collection, when the truth was that it was actually quite modest in size and variety.

Kenma, still and standing in the hall, observed him in detail, gazing around every corner of the room, scanning the place.

Kuroo supposed that maybe he had to invite him properly to come in.

“What are you waiting for? Get inside. This is also your home from now on.”

Kenma looked right at him, and then he walked until standing in front of the wardrobe.

Kuroo smiled, and started to search into a mess pile of clothes.

“Do you like denim shirts?”

Kenma said nothing, and Kuroo guessed he’d have to choose for him.

He picked a grey one, along with a pair of black jeans. Kuroo was actually proud of his fashion sense, so he was going to make his synth look good as well, because hey, why not.

Kenma kept staring at him in silence. He travelled his eyes up and down, and then he fixed them on the pieces he was holding so proudly.

“I’m afraid these clothes are not suitable for this time of night.”

Kuroo, puzzled, glanced at his clothes, he then glanced and Kenma, and glanced again at the clothes he had chosen with such thrill. He then noticed the clock on the wall, which pointed at half past three.

Too futile to realize, he let out a drained laugh.

“You’re right, I guess this should be for tomorrow.”

Truth is he had lost track of time. It was still a working day, the next morning he had to attend class and he should be sleeping by now.

“Pick any T-shirt you like from this pile,” he offered, tapping on the messy heap of old tees he wore to sleep and just be comfy at home.

While Kenma scooped deep into the pile dubiously, Kuroo headed to the bathroom where he had the laundry basket and tossed his clothes inside, staying just in his underwear. While he was brushing his teeth, his stomach growled.

And then he came to the realization that all of this had begun because he decided to go out and buy some food, and just a simple detour had brought him to find Kenma.

Perhaps, if he had chosen to stay at home without dinner, he would have never found him.

Perhaps, if he had chosen the same path back home, he would have never found him.

It was ridiculous, weird, to come up with the different possibilities that day might have ended.

After rinsing and drying his face with the towel, Kuroo went back to the room, just to find Kenma wearing one of his dumb, text T-shirts, one of the many Bokuto had given to him, specifically the one which said ‘MY FAVE TYPE OF MEN IS RAMEN’.

He couldn’t have picked any other but that one… Could that be considered _karma_?

Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh earnestly. Definitely, this had been the weirdest day of his life.

“We can go buy clothes for you tomorrow,” he offered. Judging by how baggy his t-shirt looked on Kenma, he had to find new clothes according to his synth’s size.

Kenma was looking at the shirt attentively, grazing the fabric with his fingers with small circles, showing curiosity.

“Anything’s fine,” he said quietly.

“…Is that a yes or a no?”

Kenma looked up, and Kuroo met again with those deep, glowing eyes. It was hard to find any kind of emotion beyond that layer of feline yellow shade.

What gave him the answer was his calm voice, no less intense than his eyes, though.

“It’s a yes.”

Kuroo smiled again, and scratching his head lazily, opened the other side of the wardrobe to take out his futon and set to sleep.

He suspected Kenma wasn’t going to need a futon himself –he didn’t had a spare one anyway, but if there was the need for one, he could always lend his own-, so he asked what Sawamura had already informed him about.

“Now is when I sleep and you recharge, right?”

Kenma nodded.

Kuroo’s apartment was small, with only one room which served both as a bedroom and living room, with a single low table, a wardrobe, and two doors to the bathroom and the kitchen. There weren’t any chairs.

“So I just have to plug you and that’s it? You’ll be alright on the floor?”

Kenma nodded again.

“Any place is fine. During charge, I get into energy saving mode, similar to when humans sleep. I don’t feel anything.”

 _I don’t feel anything_ , Kuroo echoed in his head. What a hopeless remark. It sounded so empty…

Kuroo was aware of Kenma being an android, a robot, a machine – he wasn’t going to differentiate between being on the floor, on a chair, or on a puffy futon. But if Kuroo could help him somehow, whatever the petty, trivial matter it came to, he sure was going to do it.

After connecting him to the cable Sawamura had given him, one end onto the sensor and the other to the wall socket, Kenma entered in charge mode. His eyes didn’t lose shade nor intensity, only his expression did. He appeared just like when he still wasn’t activated – his gaze was merely empty.

Kuroo left him leaning against the wall, and after taking a last glance and thinking how much his life had changed in the span of a few hours, he let out a yawn, switched off the lights and fell onto the mattress.

Still in the darkness of the room, Kenma’s eyes were still glowing.

Kuroo didn’t mind at all.

 

***

 

A warm, bitter smell of coffee woke up Kuroo the next morning, despite the fact that, as it was a recurring habit of his, he had his head buried under the pillows.

Stretching out his limbs and getting half his body up, he noticed there was a clear light coming through the window, and that Kenma wasn’t where he left him last night.

He turned to the kitchen door abruptly, and calmed down when he saw the lights were on, and that he could hear steps.

“Kenma?”

Kenma showed up instantly by the doorframe, just like he looked yesterday, with that lame shirt which was way too big for him, leaving his bare legs at plain sight.

It was the typical image of a girl in romantic comedies who used her boyfriend’s clothes as pajamas…

God, he really needed to buy Kenma some clothes, urgently.

“Kuro. Good morning. I’ve brewed some coffee.”

Kuroo became speechless for a few seconds.

He didn’t know how to call that feeling, but the only thing he was sure of is that it felt pleasant. Pleasant and cozy.

Perhaps he could get used to this sooner than he had expected.

“Thanks, ah—what time is it…?” he murmured still with a raspy voice, and when he saw the clock, his eyes widened. “Fuck.”

It was quarter past eight and he had missed part of his first morning lesson. He should have listened to Bokuto when he told him that first lessons early in the morning were destined to be missed, and that he should have chosen an afternoon group.

“What’s wrong, Kuro?”

“I overslept and I had class at eight,” he answered tiredly, falling down to the futon. He totally forgot to set up his clock alarm on his phone.

“Oh,” Kenma said. “That leaves you… forty-four minutes available before starting the next one.”

Kuroo let out a short chuckle. “Such accuracy.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

Kuroo sighed, pressing his palms against his face and rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, I think that’s exactly what I need.”

 

 

After having breakfast, Kuroo took a quick shower and got dressed quickly. In the hurry of getting his bag ready, he realized he was going to leave Kenma alone for a few hours.

He could take him to uni, although synths weren’t authorized to enter to actual classes…

Yet another ridiculous thought to have, when just the day before he was the one to talk shit on anyone who brought their synths to campus.

Anyway, he assumed the best thing was to ask him directly.

“Kenma, what do you wanna do? Come to uni with me, or you’d rather stay here?”

Kenma seemed to ponder for a moment.

“I don’t have preferences, Kuro. You just need to tell me what to do, when and where.”

Ah, shit. That was the part about synths he didn’t like. He wanted them to make their own decisions, even though that was nearly impossible.

“I’d like you to choose… you know, just like when I asked you about food. If you had to do something now, would you come with me or stay here?”

As it happened the night before, Kenma blinked. Kuroo began to make out the explanation to that – it seemed that when he had to answer more subjective questions, he blinked.

“I’d come with you,” he concluded.

Kuroo crossed his arms and a small smile formed on his lips.

“Then get dressed or we’ll be late.”

 

***

 

Kuroo felt like such a betrayer being accompanied by a synth around campus. He had to swallow his old prejudiced words, but what could he do, he’d just been dragged by false morale, just like Bokuto accused him of.

And Bokuto didn’t wait long to rub that in. When they met during their break between classes, he approached him like always, until he caught Kenma’s presence by his side, and then he pointed at him with an accusing finger, followed by a scream it made Kuroo want to strangle him.

“You brought Kenma!!!”

“I know,” Kuroo said with a boring voice.

“You, who didn’t let me bring Akaashi!!!!”

“I know.”

Kuroo let Bokuto shower him with more resentment until he seemed done with it, and then focused back to Kenma.

“Holy shit, Kenma! You look just like one of those hot foreign models!!”

And it was true, the outfit he was wearing, the one formed by the grey denim shirt and black jeans –which were cutely folded around his knees to make up for Kuroo’s height- made him look quite charming and alluring, similar to those guys who filled fashion blogs and catalogues. Besides, his long blonde hair did nothing else but highlight his handsome features.

“These clothes are mine, you know,” Kuroo sneered at him.

“Sure, but they look better on him.”

Kuroo completely agreed.

“Fuck off,” he said instead.

“Look, the whole family is here.”

It was Sawamura’s voice from behind. They turned around and saw him coming over, Suga by his side obviously. They probably came from the engineering building.

“Hi, guys!” Suga greeted excitedly. “It’s so good you brought Kenma here, Kuroo.”

“Yeah, well…” he replied trying to find an excuse.

“I see there are no hard feelings anymore, aren’t there?” Sawamura prompted instead with a sly grin, after taking a short glance at Kenma. “Hey, come round mine later, I’ll give you a configuration tablet, so you can learn more about synth functioning. Just don’t show up again after midnight…”

Kuroo was going to say no way, but Sawamura and Suga wasted no time in resuming their path, leaving him hanging.

Suga, however, turned around with a childish look and waved goodbye.

“Nothing like having a friend in the synth business, man. Get everything for free,” Bokuto pointed out next to him, tapping him on the shoulder.

Kuroo stood still with an annoyed face. “I don’t like owing people anything, much less to Sawamura.”

“Come on, don’t sweat it, I think he’d do anything to help synths without expecting something in return.”

Kuroo reconsidered, and then let out a sigh in resignation.

“I guess I need that tablet.”

“You always get one when you buy a synth, it’s part of the techy stuff. So yeah, go for it.”

Kenma, who had been quiet all along, was glancing around with faint unease, seeing all the people coming and going in all directions, lots of them accompanied by synths.

Kuroo noticed him, and without thinking, he grazed his hair with his fingers to get his attention.

“Kenma, you okay? Are you bored?”

Kenma looked up right away and when he saw Kuroo, his expression softened. He shook his head.

“Let’s grab something to eat with this idiot, and then I’ll go back to class, alright?”

The three of them headed to the cafeteria, with Bokuto complaining about ‘who are you calling idiot’ and Kuroo ignoring him, because he was too busy catching many students staring at Kenma, and even though he didn’t know if that was good or bad, it made him tread proudly by his side.

 

***

 

Just as promised, Kuroo took Kenma to one of the many shopping malls in Tokyo to buy new clothes after class. It was early afternoon, and both were strolling past different shops.

Kuroo entered directly in one of his favourite stores, full of casual and comfy clothes designed mainly to youth.

It was a lost cause letting Kenma choose his clothes, because he just shrugged at everything or simply said nothing, so Kuroo came to the conclusion that he’d have to choose for him once again. Since he looked quite good in denim shirts, he grabbed a couple more in different tones, along with some basic tees and some cardigans. He almost took a leather jacket, but it was too similar to his, so he thought he’d just saved that and lend him his own. As for jeans and shoes, Kuroo decided to get some in different styles – long jeans, shorts, sneakers. He even grabbed some underwear… because he assumed Kenma wasn’t going to stay with the same ones forever.

His excessive kindness took its toll on him when he looked at the receipt, but he paid gladly regardless of the high amount spent.

 

 

It was past seven when they arrived home. They left the shopping bags on the floor and Kuroo began to take the clothes out right away to make them some space in his wardrobe. Kenma followed him.

When Kenma handed him one of his shirts folded, Kuroo became puzzled.

“Er—You don’t fold them like this, Kenma.”

He had folded him backwards, with the sleeves at the front and the lower end on top of it. Kuroo grinned in amusement.

“It’s funny that a synth doesn’t know how to fold a shirt.”

Kenma looked away and ducked his head.

“I’m sorry, Kuro. I will learn.”

Kuroo tried to downplay the issue with a light laugh.

“Don’t worry, I am very messy myself, just look at the wardrobe. Sometimes I just toss everything in there without even folding. So you can do the same.”

Kenma seemed to understand the explanation and his face enlightened. Kenma wasn’t as expressive as Suga, but Kuroo was starting to get the hang of his mood changes, and that cheered him up.

“…What is that?” Kenma asked out of the blue.

Kuroo looked to where Kenma was pointing at, inside one of his drawers.

“You mean this?” Kuroo grabbed his portable console and Kenma nodded. “Ah, it’s the lame game Bokuto gave me for my birthday last year. I got tired after a week.”

Kenma continued staring at the item.

“Can I use it?”

Kuroo didn’t expect that question at all.

“Huh? Uh, yeah, why not…”

Kenma took the console with open hands, as if it were something very fragile and important. He first looked at it from all angles and pressing the buttons, and then walked to the wall and sat down, kneed propped up.

Kuroo saw everything without saying a thing, and kept on putting all the clothes in their place. Kenma was already playing judging by the buzzing music in the background. Kuroo took a few glimpses – he seemed very focused.

“Uhm, Kenma.”

Kenma looked up.

“I gotta go to Sawamura’s to get something, you coming too?”

His eyes were still varnished with their usual glow, but Kuroo seemed to grasp some reluctance in them.

Seeing that he wasn’t responding, Kuroo spoke again.

“You can stay here if you prefer, you know that.”

Kenma lowered his head slowly, getting his attention back to the screen but without pressing any button. Then, he nodded briefly.

Kuroo smiled. “I’ll get back soon.”

 

***

 

The first thing that came in sight when Kuroo entered the apartment he already visited the night before –after Suga’s welcoming smile, purer than angels- was his owner, Sawamura, typing into his tablet, with someone else in front of him, motionless.

“You got a new one?” he asked as greeting.

Sawamura looked up in confusion, and the same did the boy beside him. “What?”

Kuroo pointed out at the caramel haired guy. He also had very clear eyes. “New synth?”

It seemed like Kuroo stated the most offensive thing because of the way the stranger scoffed at his words.

“Excuse you, I am not the synth here. _He_ is.”

By he, it referred to a rather fit guy resting back against the wall who initially Kuroo hadn’t seen, with his arms crossed, and watching the situation attentively. His eyes were very intense, piercing even, a darker shade of what was usual in synths, but still with a glowing grey iris which stood out even from a couple of meters away.

Kuroo glanced both ways just to make sure.

Yeah, it seemed he had misunderstood.

“My bad,” he said, bowing his head briefly.

The not-a-synth guy wasn’t impressed by Kuroo’s apology and crossed his arms, continuing to show disbelief.

“Who are you and what the hell makes you think I’m a synth? And of all the people really, S _awamura’s_?” the stranger put some condescending emphasis on those last words.

Kuroo shrugged.

“Well, Sawamura likes them pretty.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“That is not a reason, that’s… a universally acknowledged fact. So by that, I don’t understand what you’re doing here, in this room.”

As if Kuroo and his dialectic, teasing conversations with Sawamura weren’t enough, now this guy seemed to have found a way to get on his nerves as well.

Sawamura then cleared his throat as a way of hiding the laughter that was about to show.

“Kuroo, this is Oikawa, maybe you’ve seen him around uni, too.”

_Haven’t had the misfortune, thank God._

“I don’t think so,” he said instead.

“Well, that’s your loss,” Oikawa replied, and Kuroo swore he wasn’t going to get along with this guy.

“Anyway, I think this is all for now,” Sawamura concluded, turning off the tablet and talking back to Oikawa. “Just be careful next time. If he starts acting wrong again, call me right away.”

Oikawa sighed in a way it seemed he had run a marathon. His cheeky, pretentious attitude completely vanished – he looked really tired now.

“Thanks a lot, Sawamura.”

Oikawa’s synth started walking next to him, and Suga appeared again, ready to accompany them to the door.

Kuroo observed them while they were heading out, and he heard how Oikawa was speaking again with his teasing voice.

“Always looking fresh, Suga. Wish Iwa-chan wasn’t such a brute and more like you instead…”

“I might have just been repaired, but I am hearing just _fine_ , Asskawa.”

It struck Kuroo the way that synth was addressing his owner, but then remembered what had happened to him in the first place.

“Let me guess,” he said, smirk showing and glancing at Sawamura, “you fooled him like you did with me and made his synth register that kind of nickname?”

“See, as usual, you don’t know shit,” Sawamura replied with a mocking tone. “The synth calls him that way by his own choice.”

Kuroo frowned. “Really? Is that even possible?”

“It is. Things like that can happen when the bond between user and synth is too strong,” Sawamura looked across the room and waved goodbye right before Suga closed the door. He then looked back at Kuroo. “Those two have been through a lot.”

Kuroo gathered his lips together in a pout. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Sawamura flashed him a crooked smile, followed by a warm squeeze on the shoulder, which left Kuroo even more bewildered.

“Anyway, I’ll bring you your tablet, wait here.”

Sawamura left the living room, and Kuroo stood there, with Suga walking back to the center.

“So Kuroo, how come Kenma hasn’t come with you?”

“He wasn’t in the mood. I think he’s a tad lazy…”

Suga covered his mouth and giggled.

“Really? Well, that’s the first time I hear about a lazy synth.”

Kuroo shrugged. “He seemed to find it more interesting to stay and play with my console…”

“Oh! Sounds fun. Daichi and I play games sometimes too!”

 _I think we’re speaking about different type of games here_ , Kuroo was about to say but Sawamura showed up right on time. Kuroo sometimes thought he had a sixth sense for when he talked too much with Suga.

“Kuroo, here’s your tab,” he said, handing it to him. “Treat it well.”

“What do you think, that I am four and I’m going to drop it?”

Sawamura gave him a flat look.

“I meant your synth.”

“Oh,” Kuroo muttered. “Of course I’ll treat him well. Better than anyone out there.”

That was the absolute truth, and the strong confidence in his voice was enough evidence to his promise.

 

 

 

When Kuroo arrived home, he didn’t know what to expect, but he certainly didn’t imagine he would see Kenma lying on the floor, facing down, with his videoconsole still running.

“You’re still playing that?” he asked, standing in front of him.

Kenma nodded, too concentrated on the screen.

“It’s entertaining.”

His hair was blocking his way into his face, and it looked really hard to see the screen properly, but Kenma, instead of tying his hair back, he kept on fidgeting around, game in hand.

That was when Kuroo realized he still had one more thing left to buy.

 

***

 

“Okay, so the thing is… He just acts like a person.”

It was a new morning at uni, and Kuroo had grabbed Bokuto during their free hour break and brought him to the cafeteria to have a long, important talk about the previous day’s events.

“Describe ‘like a person’… I mean, yeah, even though they’re synths they’re supposed to behave similarly to people.”

Bokuto explained while drinking from his iced coffee. Seeing the still troubled expression on his friend’s face, he got closer and put his elbows on the table.

“Something’s bugging you. Come on, _shoot_.”

“He’s become obsessed with that videogame you gave me.”

Bokuto gasped, and Kuroo rolled his eyes because that was a complete over exaggeration.

“A synth appreciates my gifts better than you do, Kuroo. I _am_ offended.”

Kuroo ignored that remark, anyway.

“Listen, Bokuto. It was so fucking weird. A _robot_ playing a _game_.”

“Why not?”

“Does Akaashi play videogames?”

Bokuto seemed to recall past events deep in his memory. “He doesn’t…”

“See?”

“That doesn’t mean anything. He—He watches TV with me!”

“TV is a one-way kind of relationship, of course he does. Besides, the guy also needs some distraction — being your caretaker 24 hours a day must be so damn exhausting.”

Bokuto glared at him and kicked him softly under the table, which only made Kuroo laugh.

“Whatever, Kuroo, but what I’m trying to make you understand is that, except from the fact that they’re machines, almost everything else works just like a person. And when I say everything, I mean, like, _everything_.” And with that, he made an obscene gesture by sucking the straw from his glass and bobbing it inside his mouth, in and out.

Kuroo’s mouth, in contrast, turned from a bored scowl to wide open shock.

“There’s people out there who _fuck_ their synths!?”

Bokuto took the straw out of his mouth and shoved it to Kuroo.

“What? It’s not that surprising… they’re machines, after all. Electric devices. Think of a vibrator.”

“One hell of a vibrator,” Kuroo replied in a mocking voice at the same time he threw the licked straw back at him. “No, but seriously now, that’s so fucked up.”

Bokuto let out a short chuckle and placed the straw on the table, putting an end to the spontaneous throwing match. “Yeah. Rumor has it there are even clubs using synths as prostitutes.”

Kuroo squinted cunningly at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve tried.”

“What the fuck! Are you kidding me?”

He turned his lips into a mischievous smirk, showing teeth. “Sorry, just asking.”

“Seriously, Kuroo, don’t joke about this topic so lightly.”

“Hey, you’re the one who called them vibrators.”

“ _Some_ people use them as such, not me!”

Kuroo kept silent for some seconds, looking pensive.

“Sawamura’s probably done it with Suga, though.”

“Oh my god,” Bokuto exclaimed, bouncing his back into the chair. “Forget about Sawamura.”

Kuroo cupped his face in his palm, speaking out his thoughts into an annoying rant. “Yeah I wish, but it turns out he fixed my synth, gave me a free tab, and now I owe him, like, my life or something.”

“Nah, he just takes pride on being one step ahead of you and teases you back. But he’s too busy to care about you more than that.”

Kuroo wasn’t exactly listening to what Bokuto was saying, and still was wondering about the shocking news regarding the androids.

“Is there any case of someone actually falling for their synth?”

“Sti’ ffinking ‘bout that?” Bokuto mumbled trying to hold the straw –Kuroo’s straw- on his upper lip but failing like a five year old.

“Just answer.”

Bokuto picked up the straw that had dropped to his lap and tossed it to the table. He adopted a more serious face, leaving the jokes aside.

“There are cases… and those people are usually treated as deviants. Remember I told you their brains are very complex? Well that’s just an understatement; it’s a huge state of mind even for a machine, so many people fall into that illusion of being with a real person. They’re _only_ machines, copies, but they’re also completely unique. Just like someone might share similar traits as you and yet you still remain both single, independent individuals. Synths work that way as well at different levels, so it’s inevitable for some to grow feelings… often mistaken for love.”

“Everything about that sounds so complicated. What a stupid way to mess up your life.”

“Yeah, but I guess you can’t help who you fall in love with.”

Kuroo noticed the change of tone of Bokuto. He didn’t say that with his usual excited voice, or even boringly when he was confronted.

Kuroo didn’t try to grasp any further meaning beyond his words. He grinned mockingly again.

“You know that since you’ve had Akaashi, you don’t say dumb things so often? You’re really starting to sound like a real adult.”

“Fuck off,” Bokuto snapped, but his voice cracked at the last vowel.

Kuroo burst into loud laughter right away before his friend’s annoyed face.

 

***

 

That afternoon, before getting home, Kuroo took a detour, not forgetting about the last item he had to buy for Kenma.

Once he entered home, he found Kenma on the floor again, spread around lazily, console in hand.

He tossed him a small, transparent package. It fell next to him, and Kenma looked at it, surprised.

“What is that?”

“Elastic bands, to tie your hair.”

Kenma stared at it, without knowing what to do.

Kuroo let out an amused snort.

“You want me to tie it for you?”

Kenma looked up to him, and paused his game, leaving it on the floor.

“Okay.”

Kuroo knelt behind Kenma, and grasped all the hair he could in his hands – it was unbelievably soft. Of course it had to be synthetic… it was too pretty to be real. With a twist of his wrist, he did a low ponytail. There wasn’t much hair out, and now at least the front locks of hair wouldn’t get on his face. The sensor on his nape remained partly covered.

“There. I bet you’ll play better now.”

Kenma touched his hair, from the scalp to the end, curiously. He then turned around, meeting Kuroo’s eyes.

“I will. Thank you, Kuro.”

He was beaming, with both eyes and lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeee some sappy domestic fluff never hurts, right? :3 but don’t get too happy because there’s going to be angst real soon *devil emoji*  
> hope you liked this chapter (yay iwaoi cameos!), and thanks a lot to everyone following this story. I’m 99% sure to forecast that this is going to have one more chapter than what I originally planned – so 5 instead of 4-. I’ll change the chapter count when I get closer to the end, though. just in case :)


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